


a wolf at the door.(it.girl.rag doll.)

by lupulangia



Series: tacks for snacks [10]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-07
Updated: 2009-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 11:16:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6468064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupulangia/pseuds/lupulangia





	a wolf at the door.(it.girl.rag doll.)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celeloriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeloriel/gifts), [lalaietha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalaietha/gifts).



The next few days at the station were uneventful, Keith avoided me like the plague and the rain didn't stop for more than 20 minutes at a time. I was still feeling foggy at best from the fainting spell by the time I got to my counseling appointment on Friday and I almost didn't find the place. It was tucked in the corner of an old shopping center with a tiny makeshift sign that had obviously been meant to be temporary.  
"Crossroads Christian Counseling",it read. The lettering looked new but the board it was on was warped and had a peeling old paint job.  
The lady called my name within a few minutes and I followed her back to a small office where she offered me a seat in beige arm chair. It was stiff- new, I could tell, and definitely not designed with comfort in mind.  
"Is this your first time seeing a therapist?" her voice was soft.  
"yes." I didn't really know what to say, I suddenly felt like was on stage....being watched. Then I remembered the journal and a sudden chill ran down my back creating goosebumps all over my skin.  
"Are you feeling alright?" She reached for a glass of water and offered it to me. I began to relax, easing my weight onto the back of the chair and spilling my guts about the entire series of events that had led to the mandatory counseling.  
"It isn't uncommon for grief to cause people to think grandiose thoughts, Claire", she began to put away her notebook, " and nightmares are very common when going through any kind of stress. Is there something in particular you are hoping that this man can show or tell you?" She seemed concerned yet at the same time a bit condescending- almost as if she was on autopilot; saying and asking things routinely rather than out of genuine interest.  
I didn't tell her of Ashley's list. No, I thought to myself, you'd best keep that all to yourself.  
"Well I was hoping that maybe..." I paused to reassess the statement, and decided to simplify comprehensively, "he could teach me a few things on the guitar."  
Sheila took a deep breath and looked relieved, took out her appointment book and penciled me in for Monday.  
"All of this sounds very normal for someone under the amount of stress you are under, try to make sure you rest and eat well. " She led me to the door and handed me card with my appointment written on it. Why had I hoped that would make me feel better? I actually felt more frustrated by this point, making my way to my car with a feeling of defeat and disappointment. I tossed the card onto my passenger seat and drove home.  
I was so eager to finally tell someone who had an outside perspective the things I had been seeing and feeling and all I got in response was the same prosaic response, basically dismissal. I went to the refrigerator and made myself a bologna and cheese and sat on the couch. I opened my laptop and began searching for legends in the native American cultures that had once held rights to the lands in the 73165.  
" The mare of many forms" read one of the titles. I clicked on it and was led to a redirect page. I went back. I clicked the link again. I was taken to a page about kielbasa soup and making sauerkraut. Before I was able to hit the "x" in the corner it occurred to me that recipes were what Ashley had hidden her journals with so i examined the page carefully.  
There were several lists of ingredients, one on the left and one on the right, one for classic style kielbasa soup and the other for spicy style.  
1.5 pounds spicy kielbasa  
1 onion  
2 cloves fresh garlic  
1/4 cup oregano  
4 cups beef stock  
1 cup chopped carrots  
1 cup diced celery  
add salt to taste 

I paused studiously after reading the brief list and brought my mouse arrow over the ingredients. Sure enough, the word "carrots" was a hyperlink and lead me to a document written in some other language which I translated and copied onto a word document on my desktop. I paused for a moment to put my dishes away and wash my face in the sink. I toweled off with a hand towel hanging from the handle of the fridge. There on the fridge under a small round magnet was the original paper I had written my appointment down on and penciled beside it was the address. It was in the 73165, something I hadn't noticed before.  
If Ashley was right, I thought, you AND the counselor could have been under the control of one of the Godes. I suddenly felt dizzy and hot, overcome by the reality I was faced with. What had been seemingly magic at first had taken a dark turn . I started over toward the couch to read the document, desperately trying to shake the feeling of being watched. 

That night was the first night I didn't sleep that summer. I laid in my bed full of anxiety, worried about Daniel and sad about Ashley. I was curious to know how much if any of what i had read was true, and I decided I was going to go back down Horseshoe lane Saturday if they had any mail or not. I got up out of bed after giving up on sleep and headed out toward the car.  
At the station it started out as a normal Saturday with kicked back mail tubs that had accumulated over the week of torrential downpour. Many of the roads and boxes had become too dangerous to traverse and I had to line the entire interior of my Grand am with garbage sacks. Keith came up behind me around nine or ten while I was casing my mail, tapping his cane nervously.  
"You going to mom's tonight?" he asked without looking up. I had almost forgotten about dinner at Vertie's."of course I'll be there", i answered, turning my head to smile casually. He didn't look, just nervously paced the six or seven feet between my mail case and the wall. He seemed to be playing with something, something on the end of his cane. I couldn't see what it was and I didn't want to gawk so I went back to sorting the mail, almost ready to tie down.  
"Do me a favor Claire, " he started cautiously toward me and sat his left hand on my shoulder.  
"Try and not make any extra stops on the route today, it's been a rough week with the roads in this shape."  
I slowly raised my eyes and stopped right at the end of his cane. He had painted it or something, I couldn't quite tell... He saw me looking and quickly snatched it up, briskly moving back out toward the desk. It had been orange and green...like a carrot. Why on earth would he have painted his cane like a carrot?  
That's absurd Claire, I told myself, he probably needs to refinish it. I remembered Ashley's notes and the carrots Daniel had fed me that day on the porch. And why would he come over here just to say that about no extra stops?  
He knew something and he wasn't being very transparent about whatever it was. My intrigue piqued again, I started tying down my mail quickly, eager to see if anyone was outside on Anderson and Horseshoe.  
The clouds were ominous and grey, sagging down toward the earth as a willows branches weep. Thunder echoed through the sky and across the plains as I maneuvered my vehicle over the hills on Anderson nearing Horseshoe lane. I could see a figure standing by the fence, and the rain began to relent. It was only sprinkling by the time I pulled up behind Daniel and parked the car by the curb.  
"Hey!" I shouted toward him. He didn't turn. I began to approach him as he turned toward me, his head bowed. A sudden wave swept over me, a combination of fear and excitement, causing my heart to race and palms to sweat. He reached up with his right hand and moved the hat that shielded his face.  
What I saw then was enough to scare anyone away for good, and I could have fainted if I hadn't read the page I'd found hidden in the recipe.  
His face had formed into that of a horse, similar to the one I had seen the first day I met him. His eyes were large and curious, gazing silently back at me; his head bowed again, tipped the brim of his hat, and he turned back into a human face. His ice blue eyes looked back at me as if amused by my expression, and he walked toward the house without speaking a word.  
I followed. After all, there wouldn't be any time to account for, no matter how long I stayed.

As I followed him down the road,I thought about the horse with his curious eye thought and how it seemed to vanish when I was out there, the dream of the devil playing piano, the things I had read and seen...  
"Dreams don't mean anything Claire", my father's voice echoed in my mind. "its just your mind making up stories to try to keep you asleep."


End file.
